


The Beat in My Heart When There is None

by justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mentions of Death, Resurrection, Smut, Supernatural Elements, darkjonerys, one shot for now hope to expand later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: A modern dark and angsty Jonerys seek shelter on Dragonstone and in each other.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 59
Kudos: 158





	The Beat in My Heart When There is None

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Something new from me today, and a good bit different too. 
> 
> The amazing Midqueenally over on Tumblr is making a gif set for Legends and I'm so incredibly excited about it I decided to gift her something in exchange. I'm so slow I feared I wouldn't get something done for her in a timely manner if I started from scratch so I decided to bring out a piece of a fic I've been working on here and there. I seem to have a thing for posting random scenes with not a lot of context lol. 
> 
> If you're over on Tumblr though you may have seen me post a moodboard and short summary of an idea I had during Jonerys AU month that I titled Seven Devils. This is a taste of it, probably somewhere midway through the storyline. I drop some hints here and there, but the biggest thing you need to know is Jon's been murdered, resurrected, and now he and Dany are hunting for his killers. 
> 
> It's dark and angsty so be prepared, but I do hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts. Thanks to Ashley and Wolvenstorm for all their help, love those ladies to the moon and back!! 
> 
> And Midqueenally, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!! <3

I’ll be your thief in the night 

so I can steal you

I’ll be your church where you pray 

so I can heal you

I’ll be your lover where you lay 

so I can free you

You’ll be my sunlight in my day 

so I can see you

Oooooooh, ooooooooh,

you’ll be my life 

when I’m dead

I’ll be your calm 

in the storm ahead

You’ll be the beat in my heart 

when there is none

You’ll be the air in my lungs 

when my breath is done

You’ll be the tears I can’t cry 

when you’re weeping

You’re my only reason 

to keep from sleeping

Ooooooooh, ooooooooh, 

you’ll be my life 

when I’m dead

I’ll be your calm 

in the storm ahead

Tell my world I’m gonna try

To stay closer by your side

Be my life when I’m dead

I’ll be your calm in the storm ahead

Tell my world I’m gonna try

To stay closer by her side

**Haunted Heart - Little Hurricane**

  
  
  


The sea and skies were becoming more threatening by the minute as she watched the rain slide down the windows from her place on the sofa, her book tossed aside. But the thunderstorm wasn't much better at distracting her from his torment than _Suppressing Criminal Evidence_ had been. 

He was in the shower as usual, the need to wash away the remnants of his horrors too strong for him to resist. It eased him somewhat, the hot water streaming down his body and warming his skin anew, every inch of him able to feel again.

He’d told her he was fine, she didn't have to hover, but more than anything she wanted to walk in there, strip, and press her naked body to his. To soothe him, to ease his pain. To feel him under her hands, his skin hot against hers. To feel his heart beat wild and strong beneath her ear once more. To feel his rough hands map her curves and plains, their shaking ceased, grip firm and greedy. To know he was alive. To remind him he was.

The yearning she had to be with him hollowed her insides. Like a dreadful hunger under her skin, in her heart, her bones, her veins, her blood.

It ached. All of her ached. For him.

And right then that ache was growing. An intoxicating pressure, low and deep within her, spreading out and down between her thighs. Almost painful. But she liked it. Didn't want it to stop.

She squirmed, crossing and uncrossing her legs, sliding her hand between them, needing the friction, the thin fabric of her leggings allowing her damp heat to seep through, trapped beneath her searching fingers.

She closed her eyes and could still feel the touch of his lips moving over her fevered skin from the day before. The crisp smell of him spinning her senses. His salty taste on her eager tongue. His hard thighs spreading hers. He was everywhere, always with her, inside her.

A groan echoed from the bathroom and she froze, strained to listen closer, which wasn’t hard—he left the door open. The water was splashing against the stone floor and walls, but underneath that… a rhythm. The water surging every few seconds. 

_Splat, splat, splat._

_Was he…_ He was _._

She couldn't think anymore. The thought of him, the enticing picture in her mind, her own need, all flooding her with pleasure and washing her away. Her body became a surging wave. Hips rising and falling again and again, fingers pressed over her center, rolling back against the rocking. Too soon every fiber within her tightened, cries escaped her throat, and she melted into nothingness.

She’d barely composed herself when he walked toward her from across the room. He had a soft step, always seeming to appear out of thin air. But she knew he was there and he knew she knew, yet still he slinked and creeped like a wolf hunting through woods. He stopped a few feet behind her, his stare heavy. Her neck prickled. She slowly turned her head and lifted her eyes to his, avoiding his gorgeous body and its heartbreaking scars, but especially the way the crisp white towel he was wearing barely hung onto his lean hips.

He was smiling, a half-smile. Wolf-like and sharp at the edges, the tips of his pearly white canines shining from between his curved lips. His eyes were hungry, watching her like prey. She dropped hers away, pulse quickening again. She wanted to be his prey in any way he wanted her. Her blood grew hot with it, so hot she wouldn’t be surprised if he smelled smoke. She knew if she dared look again he would be licking those luscious sinful lips of his.

An aftershock of pleasure shivered through her, eyes closing, neck twisting and stretching as she breathed out a low moan.

His soft laughter trailed behind him as he left the room and headed down the hall.

_Bastard._

She almost hated his little games. Almost. 

She should be furious at the way he played with her, but she couldn't bring herself to even be irritated. He needed the outlet, a distraction from the pain, and she hadn't tried to stop him, or asked him to. She didn’t want him to. It was the most thrilling, exquisite thing she'd ever had the pleasure to experience. She feared she was beginning to crave it, sitting around in a constant state of arousal and anticipation just waiting for him to tease it from her again.

“How’s the reading going?” he murmured in her ear with that voice of his. The one that opened her as easy as any book. Like the black blanket on the bed, so soft and dark as it caressed her skin she wanted to wrap herself in it and never come out.

But that time it was so sudden it made her jump out of her skin.

“Stop doing that!”

He just smirked, coming around the end of the sofa and dropping his sculpted, god-like frame onto it.

No one would be able to gaze at the sight before her and not see the work of the divine.

As usual, he was dressed, scars hidden, a black t-shirt and jeans both hugging his body like a second skin. She never thought she would envy fabric, but there she was. He still held a pink flush from his shower, raven curls wet and shining, catching the light from the fire, and there was a sparkle in his dark eyes that she rarely ever had the privilege to see.

He looked so alive. Beautiful and bright as a winter’s day. It hurt her heart to look at him, it would hurt even more to look away.

They stared at each other, not saying a word. Which had become their usual after one of his passionate games. There was an unspoken accord reached after the first. They left their thoughts simply that, unspoken. She was too stubborn about their power struggle to say anything, he wavered between smug gratification and worry.

Dealing with him was akin to learning an intricate partnered dance. Pushing or pulling never worked, he would fight or flee every time. His heart like a wounded, starving animal. Its need for comfort so urgent, just not enough to overcome its horrid fears.

So she waited to see where he’d take her next, let him lead without him knowing she was.

At least she tried anyway.

Right then she was losing. The longer he looked at her, the tighter her insides became. He was a force untamable, invading her every pore with his entire being. He had become her moon, her gravity. Blood rising like the tides, pulled by his every move. He drew her out of herself so effortlessly, could undo her with his eyes alone.

He tried so hard to stay hidden behind them, those grey, stormy depths, wanting her to think he was made of cold, hard ice, but she could see so much more than he wanted her to.

The glimpses of pain and flashes of vulnerability in them. The hurt and fear. The rage. The anguish she caught on his face in those rare moments of transparency filled her with a need to heal him so great she feared her own heart would physically shatter within her chest.

But whenever she thought she had the upper hand on him, whenever she got him to open those small fractions, he always managed to flip her over and onto her ass. She was forever grasping and clawing, trying to climb over his walls.

His iron will was as tenacious as her own.

It had been almost eight weeks since he’d found her that fateful night and so much had changed.

The panic and suspicion had fallen away, euphoria reigning once the trust had knit itself together between them, tighter and more healed than his scars. She relished in the pleasures he gave her and the peace that was wrapping around them, even though they still had a war to wage. He had unveiled things within her she hadn't known were possible. Dark, vibrant, beautiful things. Some she still didn't completely understand.

And something else. Something she must keep hidden, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She loved him.

And while he’d come so far, he wasn’t ready for that. Couldn't fathom letting go of the last of his restraints, his protections. He had no faith there could be more. No faith in anything. Not in life, love, her, or himself. Hope was laughable to him. He lived only in the here and now, never trusting the next night would come, or even the next hour.

He’d accepted his grim fate and she had no doubt he would let things continue just as they were between them for the rest of their existence. However long they could outsmart the lions stalking them. And she supposed they could. She would, even if reluctantly, if it was all he was capable of giving.

What they had, even incomplete, was surely beyond the comprehension of most. It was beyond her and she was living it.

Every time their eyes met she felt the ground shift under her feet. Something wide and ancient seeming to move within them, in a language that needed no voice.

_You are mine and I am yours. We are one. We are us._

The world could burn to ashes and she knew they’d still be standing.

She couldn’t say why, nor did she understand it, but she knew.

Just as she knew the certain spot above his collarbone that drew a moan from him every time her lips touched it. Or the dark glint in his eyes when thoughts of wicked pleasures dance behind them, and the rough timber of his voice that snaked down her spine when he whispered those pleasures in her ear. She knew the bow of his back and the grip of his fingers in her hair as she kneeled at his feet and pleasured him. She knew his hand around her throat and the feel of his cock buried deep inside her.

She knew his voice was different. That it came from somewhere deeper than before. She thought it was the beast, the wolf, or all he was speaking in one voice. Each word eased out onto her skin, holding more meaning than they ever had. Each drew her own beast to the surface, the dragon, making it burn and thrash against her ribs.

She knew they had learned to read each other better than any book.

One trail of his fingers down her spine and he knew whether she wanted gentle or rough, whether to hold her down or let her lead, how hard to pinch or light to kiss, when she needed a caress, or even a stinging slap to her ass.

It only took a moment for her to stare into his fathomless eyes and she knew if she should kneel, to offer herself in complete submission, or to meet him equally, touch for touch, or to greedily take all he wanted to give.

She knew they'd opened each other in that way, one touch, kiss, and thrust at a time.

She didn’t remember the heavy weights he took from her, but felt the lightness he left in their wake, could sense the magnitude of what he saved her from.

And she knew they were nothing compared to the dark shadows he carried within his soul. The pain he’d been subjected to, the rage sowed so bitter and black in his heart she feared it would never be cleared away. But, little by little, she believed it was beginning to. Each time they found release in each other’s body he seemed lighter.

But despite their deep connection and the healing they'd both done, he still managed to hide pieces of himself from her, just as she did him.

She believed she could know him for lifetimes and not unravel all his secrets. She may have known every inch of his god-like body, but she couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant next to him. That feeling she’d fall forever if she leaned too far, that gaping sense of endlessness he possessed.

His passion equaled his emotions in their intensity, in their likeness of the ocean. Its flow was constant, fervent or composed, it never stopped, forever flowing from him to her, deep into her bones, into her soul, connecting them together. Sometimes it raged, the waves whipping her into submission. She could only lay back and let him take her to places unknown. Others it was gentle, he was gentle, like the waters after a storm. Calm, serene, every ripple felt, his hands never idle, but soft as a whisper against her skin.

“Did you eat yet?”

She startled again, so lost in her musings of him she missed him leaving the sofa, but the now familiar smell of cigarette smoke and coffee drew her eyes to the kitchen where he stood at the stove. 

They’d be having omelets again it looked like. 

“No.”

“Two or three eggs?”

“Two, please.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“What? I just did.”

He chuckled as he cracked another egg into a bowl, cigarette hanging from his plush lips, the ash dangerously long. “I meant about the book. Learn anything?”

“Oh, sorry. No… I don't know, maybe,” she sighed, dramatic and drawn out as she got up and threw the heavy book onto her litter strewn desk with a loud clap. 

She joined him in the kitchen, pulled plates from the cabinet, glasses, silverware, all deposited onto the table. Next were their drinks. Her milk so she could sleep, his energy bomb to prevent it. He slid her omelet onto her plate soon after and they ate quietly, going over the few things she’d dug up from the dark web while he was _sleeping_. 

She still refused to call it what it really was. 

Because they were going to stop it, find the answers they needed and save him from it. Then they would spend the rest of their days banishing it from their memories, turn it into nothing more than a faded bad dream easily forgotten.

The chair beside her scrubbed across the floor and she shot upright with a squeak.

He laughed. A real one, from deep in his soul, the one he swore he no longer had. “Scaring you is the highlight of my existence,” he snickered as he stood and went to the sink.

It was the middle of the night and storming, yet the sun was shining on her. She could feel the warmth soaking into her skin, through her chest and into her bones. Like a chill in reverse. He was there, closer than he’d been in what felt like an age. Her heart was in her throat, its beat and her breath fighting to flee her body.

She could care less he was laughing at her. Standing too, she hurried and put a smile on her face for fear the moment would vanish just as the sun did behind the storm clouds earlier.

Her plate added to his in the sink, she stepped up to him, pressing close. His beauty was almost painful and she found her fingers tracing over his brow and around to his cheekbone. She wanted to pull him inside her, all of him.

“Did I break you?” he asked, still chuckling.

She didn’t respond, not yet. His smile had her mesmerized. Now that she’d seen it, she never wanted him to be any other way. 

“Dany?”

She wanted more. Wanted to soak him in, deeper than he already was. “Kiss me. Pretend everything is normal and I’m just an ordinary girl,” she whispered, inching her lips closer to his.

He stared for the longest time. So long she became light-headed from holding her breath as she stared back, his eyes telling her more secrets. “You are everything but ordinary,” he whispered, his sinful mouth finally touching hers.

Her every nerve soared and sparked with lust.

She wanted to fuck and be fucked. Wanted him to tear her apart, then do it all over again and again. She was burning with it.

Her greed took over and she attacked, lips and tongue devouring his mouth while his hands ripped her shirt and bra away. Her leggings and panties went next as she tore his own shirt off, then she found herself on his lap, back to his chest, as he sat in one of the chairs. She remembered nothing of them moving there.

Wet sucking kisses were trailing up her neck, grasping hands at her breasts, kneading them, calloused palms rubbing over her hardened nipples. Shocks of pleasure raced through her at the sensations, pushing her need even higher.

Head thrown back to give his mouth easier access, she ran her hands over every inch of him she could reach, hard thighs, his smooth neck and springy curls, her hips rocking back of their own accord against his hard cock nestled against her ass.

Trailing fingers teased over her arms and he took her hands in his, pulling them around for both of them to see. “I have a thing for your hands, did you know that? They’re so small and soft, but they wield a power over me that nothing else ever has. I long to feel them against my skin, to burn under their touch.”

“I feel the same about yours,” she breathed.

He released them, drawing his own back up her arms and down to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples. “Your breasts are perfect.” He squeezed, kneading gently with his strong fingers. It made her weak. “So firm, yet like silk to the touch. I want to feast on them. Tease them til you beg.”

His fingers began to do just that, twisting and pulling at her nipples, making her squirm and whimper.

“Your passion drives me insane with want. Can you feel how hard you’re making my cock?” he whispered in her ear, rubbing it against the small of her back, his hands now gliding over her stomach, then lower where she wanted them most.

She gasped as soon as his clever fingers slipped through her folds, her hips rising to reach them.

“This heaven between your thighs is my undoing. Feel how swollen you are? How hot and wet? We should pick a name for it,” he chuffed softly. “There’s so many to choose from, some crude, others sweet.”

“What do you call it?” she panted.

He grasped her, held her tight and growled. “Mine.”

She smiled, but his fingers quickly wiped it away, sliding through the slick up to her knotted clit, so incredibly sensitive and eager for more of his touch.

“This little jewel,” he breathed, husky and heated against her neck. “There’s so many lovely ways to tease it. I look forward to trying them all.” A single fingertip circled it, slowly, maddeningly.

Her head rolled against his shoulder, breathing erratic.

“Open your eyes, Dany,” he ordered. “Watch us.”

She didn’t understand, but her eyes flew open as he’d asked and then she did. There in front of her was their reflection ghost-like and gauzy. He’d placed them in front of the windows, the kitchen light blocking out the night beyond them.

He shifted, hooking her thighs over his and spread them wide, opening her up for both of them to see, his fingers never ceasing their mission to melt her very being. 

She watched the spectral echo of them in the silvered glass, the hands that wandered the writhing body held in their sway, both so lewd and lecherous.

He nuzzled into her neck, placing slow, gentle kisses along the heated curve to her shoulder. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch how I touch you, how my hands move.”

A noise she wasn’t sure she could describe left her throat. It made him smile.

“Put your arms around my neck and lace your fingers together. Don’t let go.”

It took more effort than she expected, he’d turned her muscles and bones to sand, but she managed. As soon as she did, one of his hands went to her breast, fingers pinching and plucking her nipple while the other continued its sweet torment of her clit.

With slow, feather-light strokes, he circled it, around and around and around. Her legs began to tremble, the ache between them growing painful. Just as she drew close to the edge he changed his tactics, moving over it, up, then down and back again, over and over, flicking on every upstroke until she was whimpering and struggling in his arms.

“Keep those eyes open, watch my fingers,” his voice rumbled in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

He stretched his arm just a bit further and two thick fingers plunged inside her cunt. She cried out with pleasure, the deep ache easing and growing all at once. Her legs strained to close, his held them back.

He pulled his fingers out just as quickly as he put them in and rubbed her juices all over her clit.

“Feel how fucking wet you are? That tight little cunt is so greedy.”

Again and again, he fucked her with his fingers, keeping them inside a little longer each time, then back out again to torture her clit. Only his arm around her holding her up, legs unless and quivering over his.

She thought he might be killing her and she’d never been more willing to die.

The next time he reached her clit he stayed there, working it faster and faster, then faster still, rubbing over it at a furious pace. She gave a keening cry, every cell in her body seeming to shatter into millions of blissful sparks.

“That’s it beautiful, come for me.”

He cupped her with his whole hand, gently shaking against the writhing of her hips. She could feel her cunt pulsing against it. He slowed to an easy caress as the last waves of pleasure left her then scooped up her limp body and took her to the bed, laying her down.

He slid himself inside her soon after, fucking her slow and gentle. She felt everything, every tiny movement, every touch, and kiss, intensified until they came together and she fell apart in his arms, every inch of her shuddering and sweaty. He was there, as always, the beast gone, the wolf too, only the man, her lover left. 

She was barely coherent as he carefully washed her off and next thing she knew he was pulling her against his side. “Sleep now,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I love you, Jon.”

“I know, Dany. I know.”

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


_I love you Jon._

She was out cold, had been for over an hour, but he could still hear those words leaving her sleep drugged lips. Her soft, sweet voice whispering them through his mind, over and over.

She was the only one who’d ever said them to him.

She didn’t mean to say them. The near coma he fucked her into was to blame. And he’d known it for weeks already, but to hear them…

When you’d never heard them before…

How she could feel so much for him shook him to his fucking core. Especially since he promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen, to either of them.

Apparently the only kind of promises broken people make are broken ones.

He’d forced himself from the bed just after she fell asleep, but there he was again, standing over her, soaking in her warmth, his fingers brushing across her jaw and into her silky hair. It was a constant struggle to keep them off her. She was the only peace he was able to grasp.

Just an hour before they’d been sliding over her soft skin, gripping her hair. Fucking her.

And she let him, pushed him until he caved. Not that she’d had to push hard.

What she was to him, did to him, twisted his mind into knots. Tangled his heart in thorns. He couldn’t even think of a word that could touch her. Her and her wicked grin and that dark little heart and her complete and utter devotion to do anything and everything he needed. It was terrifying.

She’d long since chained herself to him. There was no point in tying her down, or locking her up, it wasn’t necessary. She did whatever he asked of her. He had no doubt she would slice herself open and bleed every last drop of her precious blood to save him if she thought it would. She wouldn’t think twice.

He didn't deserve that, but knowing he had it was ripping down every wall he’d built. The way she fucking gave and gave and gave. Letting him break her into pieces all because she hoped they would make him whole again.

There was not a crevice she hadn’t crept into, a wall she hadn’t done her best to climb, or a button she hadn’t relished in pushing.

She wanted it every bit as badly as he did. Needed it even, but she did it for him, to keep him balanced.

But now that the pleasure had passed he questioned his sanity.

One would think fucking her whenever and however would all be enough.

It wasn't. He didn't think it ever would be either.

Retreating again, which had become far too common, he went outside and down to the beach in hopes of clearing his mind. It never worked, but he did it anyway. The moon, the sea, and the stars were grounding, temporarily dousing the fire she always built in him.

To be thorough, he stripped before wading into the ocean, its cold, choppy waves dulling the pain and doing their best to wash her off his skin as the briny water kept him afloat.

If only it were that easy. The pain was never ending and she couldn’t be washed away. And nothing was going to stop him from falling. The place he swore he’d never go to was drawing nearer and bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

He’d known he was in trouble for quite a while. She had enticed him to hand her the keys to the wolf’s cage. She wasn’t afraid of him, and refused to let him hold back or hide from him anymore, teasing him to the surface almost constantly.

He had thought she’d reached the bottom of his darkness, but she had continued to dig under all the rot, uncovering layer after layer, each darker than the last. Instead of running away or retreating like any sane person would she relished in what she found. Gladly letting him split her seams down the middle, showing her what lied between pleasure and pain as he wrestled with his own.

But as easy as she could rile the beast, she could soothe him too.

The way she held him each time the knives came again, as the cold grip of death crawled its way in, whispering sweet words and promises she always kept. And still more as he was snatched back, gentle hands running across his clammy skin, measured breaths coaxing his to slow, soft lips reminding him he was alive. 

He could see them sometimes, in his mind. But they weren’t who he saw with his eyes, it was more like seeing what laid underneath their flesh. Like a second skin.

They were always in bed, him on his back, her tucked into his side, head on his chest, his arm around her. His flesh wasn’t pale as marble anymore, but dark, ink like, though opaque, his skeleton glowing an unearthly blue from within. He was blackness and bare bone, nothing more. He saw what he truly was—death.

She on the other hand was what he knew her to be—light. Inside and out, head to toe, beautiful white light glowed from every inch of her. She, the antithesis of death, _of him_ , was life.

It was obvious they shouldn’t be together, both capable of swallowing the other. But then her hand would slip through his darkness, through his scars, through the death inside his ribs, reaching for something that wasn't there until she touched it. No longer cold as ice, his heart would begin to glow red and warm as her fingers wrapped around it. Grasped in her palm it would pulse, through him and into her. Connected, as one, they become something else. Something more than either of them could be alone.

Fuck if he knew what that was though.

His family had taught him he would be stronger if he let someone love him, but he sure as hell didn't feel it. The complete opposite in fact.

Why was it, how was it this tiny woman, so soft and open was so brave? Despite the pain and betrayal she’d known that she could trust him—dead man, a lethal killing machine with no soul? She loved a monster yet she was fearless, willing to give every part of herself to him no matter the cost.

He’d known many men who couldn’t manage that much bravery.

He was certain he was among them. That his power over her was just an illusion she allowed him. Like the ocean he swam in. He might have been able to swim the waters with skill, but the danger of drowning was never far from his mind. He knew with just one mistake, one miscalculation he’d be forever lost to its tremendous power.

Every time she peeled another of his layers away that same sense of unease creeped in.

She said she was his to do with what he wanted, that she belonged to him, and she did, but he hadn’t forgotten that she claimed him first.

Any power he had was his because she gave it to him. Somehow she found him worthy of that gift.

He was hers, plain and simple.

And the itch he’d be trying to ignore wasn’t going to be refused much longer. He was unbelievably beginning to grow weary of running from it too.

It was as if her tiny hands had split his chest wide, leaving him exposed to her perusal.

She’d drawn out all the heavy things inside that weighed him down, the things his walls were made of. His fears, his pride, his past, his present, littered with torment and pain. They were all laid out on the ground at her feet, forgotten. She didn’t want those, she didn’t care about them at all, their authority meant nothing to her. She was more powerful than all of them. She only wanted him just as he only wanted her.

She knew what his hands had done, would call them a crime scene while she licked them clean of blood. She didn’t care, she forgave him and his past as easily and as often as she blinked.

His path to her was littered with pieces of him, broken and scattered like a house torn apart by a fierce storm. But those pieces were coming back to him. One by one, he’d found them in her. Some she’d been cradling in her hands. He found a couple more tucked inside her mouth. There’d been a few hidden in the spaces of her ribs, lying along the curve of her spine, and up the graceful column of her throat. Still more he found between her tender thighs, but most had been nestled under her breast, safe inside her beating heart just waiting for him to discover them. Before long he knew he would find them all, each one gift-wrapped in sunlight and fire.

It warmed him, kept the ice in his veins at bay and gave him hope that they may actually defeat their enemies and demons alike.

Despite his doubts and fears, he had a new way to survive this world.

In her.

With her.

She would be his survival and he would be hers.

Everything carried him to her, and nothing and no one would ever pull them apart.


End file.
